The Decision
by elvesandhobbits
Summary: What would happen if Arwen decided to leave Middle-Earth? Would she really regret it, in the end? And how would Aragorn react? Possible romance in the future. My first fanfic, please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, whoever may be reading this (and I really hope someone is)! This is my first fanfic so I'm not sure how it's going to go, but I promise I'll do my best :) Of course, it's not canon, but don't take it too seriously – it's just my own little twist on LotR… please read on!**

**Chapter 1 – The Vision**

Arwen stroked the snow-silk neck of her horse. It calmed her, helped her to confront the thoughts that rapidly grew in her mind. _Traitor_. She willed the thought to leave her be but still it came back, louder every time. _You chose a mortal life. You broke your promise. _She stiffened. _He wanted this. He wanted me to leave_, she thought, but it sounded weak and piteous. At last she gave up and let the thoughts taunt her as they pleased. She felt tiredness wash over her, an unusual feeling for any elf. The thoughts slowly faded away, and she felt herself sink into sleep… well, at least of a sort. Elvish sleep was not like a mortals sleep, when you would be oblivious to everything unless waken.

When she let herself wake, she realised it was a lot colder than earlier. With that she jumped back into full consciousness – she had never felt this cold before, even in the lightest of clothing. Now here she was, wrapped in several layers of velvety material, and she felt _cold_.

"Are you alright, my lady?" Came a voice from just behind her. She turned to find Lindir looking at her with a worried expression etched onto his usually relaxed face. She always felt the young elf knew her far too well.

"Yes, thank you, Lindir", she replied, trying to sound emotionless and knowing even as she said the words she had failed. Lindir simply nodded and continued staring straight ahead of him, apparently deep in thought. A shiver ran through her spine, noticeable enough for several of the sharp-eyed elves around her to look at her with uneasy gazes. But no one spoke.

The voices came back, but no sleep came to relieve her now. She shivered again, icy chills numbing and stinging her skin. _So, this is what it feels like to be mortal_, she thought sadly. Then she saw it. The child. Running to a man… a man that had silvery grey hair but even in old age looked strong and healthy. As he turned around to embrace the child, Arwen let out a silent gasp. The man was Aragorn. Which must mean… it could not be anything other than… the child was her son. Undoubtedly. Even as Aragorn let out a delighted chuckle, the child turned his head. It seemed to be looking into her heart, her soul, her mind. And she realised that the child would never see the light of the world if she continued.

_No_, she told herself, even as she fought the urge to turn around and return to Rivendell, the mortal world, and eventually, Aragorn. She needed to talk with her father. That was what stopped her. If she returned, she would never seek the Elven-home again. Her father would lose her forever, and her brothers, too. They had sworn to follow her to whatever fate, even if it meant mortality and death. The three of them would never see their mother again, and would be truly alone in the world; save for the fading remains of their kin, slowly melting into the shadows even as the world changed around them. They would be grief-stricken, forgotten by the mortal world, to remain – perhaps forever – in darkness. The truth was, she had no idea of her fate if she remained. She would follow Aragorn, but what of Elladan and Elrohir? She could not leave them – nor her father, she realised. She must continue.

"Lady Arwen, we cannot delay", said Lindir, softly. She turned her grave eyes on him, trusting herself at last to look into another's at last. Then she nodded. It was only a small gesture, but it told Lindir everything that he needed to know. Arwen would not turn back. His face was everything from relieved to anxious… of course, everyone knew she loved Aragorn, so much it was painful, but she could not choose one man over her kin. It would be betrayal. Slowly, she nudged her horse forwards again. The chill that had spread over her body eased a little. Her eyes gained a shadow of their former sparkle. The decision was made. It could never be changed now, but it would not have been any different if she had decided to stay. Even as the party moved forwards, she knew in her heart that even if she loved Aragorn for all eternity, she had made the right choice.

**So how did you like it? Very short, I know, but it's the first chapter so maybe I can be forgiven :P Anyways, please R&R, it would mean a lot to me! :) **


	2. Of Hope Lost and Found

**Thank you if you reviewed the first chapter! Your reviews inspire me a lot! However, this chapter was very, very awkward to write (and I have no idea why) so please forgive me… I wanted to re-write it but promised to get it up as soon as possible, so here it is. I tried to make it longer but had to cut some stuff out (it's complicated) so it's not too different to the first one. I know I've made about a million mistakes, but l still hope that you'll enjoy it anyway :) **

**Chapter 2 – Of Hope Lost and Found**

"I wish I could have seen him… one last time."

The jewel slipped from his fingers, shattering into a million pieces upon contact with the floor, the only witness Aragorn's horror filled eyes… and some other presence, which he couldn't decipher. He jolted awake, swiftly unsheathing his knife as if to protect the evenstar. The only emotion his could register was pain. Pain and lost hope. _You don't live up to your name this day, and you never will,_ his mind told him.

"Sir? King Theoden awaits you."

Aragorn loosened his grip on the knife. It was only one of the King's men. They left with a worried frown. The future King of Gondor got to his feet. He was shaking with heat and cold, both numb and on fire at the same time. The mess of emotions stirring inside him threatened to choke him. He knew something had changed, but he wasn't sure what. Unable to think properly, he made his way to King Theoden's tent. Pushing aside the thin fabric he entered, and was immediately confronted with the sight of the King, sitting next to a mysterious, hooded figure. Theoden got up and muttered 'I take my leave'. He did not meet Aragorn's eyes.

A few seconds passed; neither of the two spoke. Then, almost painfully, the stranger looked up. A cloud of confusion and anxiety passed over Aragorn's eyes.

"I come bearing tiding of Arwen", said Elrond half-elven, raising his clear grey eyes to meet his adopted sons'. There was a pause. "She is passing into the West."

Suddenly, the haziness in Aragorn's eyes diminished. They darkened and took on a stormier look. Anger started to overcome the future King's body. He had no idea what was happening to him, and he had no control over it.

"She promised", he hissed. "She _promised_. Are elves not creatures of honour then, Elrond? For I've never heard of an elf breaking a promise before."

"You released her from that promise, Estel", countered the elven-lord. "She is a half-elf."

"So you are saying that Legolas would not break a promise whilst Arwen would, simply because he is a pureblood?"

"It is not quite like that, Estel. Only if she is _released_-"

"But it's exactly like that, isn't it… I should never have loved her. Friends share a stronger bond than lovers, as you have made _quite_ clear to me-"

"I said nothing of the kind, Estel. I simply stated that as Thranduil's son is a pureblood, he would not, and could not break a promise, whereas Arwen as a half-elf may be released from a promise. She would not break one. I mentioned no friends and lovers."

"Maybe I released her, but she denied even wanting to sail… she said she could never leave me." Tears sprung to Aragorn's eyes, which he quickly and successfully willed away. He felt such a sudden and intense hatred for all of elvenkind it was frightening. "Maybe you aren't quite as perfect as us _mortals _would believe."

"Enough, Aragorn", shot back the half-elf, his own temper rising. "You are being completely unreasonable and you know it. You agreed to let her sail. You said you would have her leave these shores. You believed her to have left." Finally, Aragorn was silenced. A moment later, he sank into a chair.

"I know", he said quietly. "It's just… I had these dreams… it was as if she was dying…"

"Not dying, Estel."

Aragorn rose slowly from the chair.

"I have to see her."

"Estel, no. Would you throw away victory for the non-existent chance of seeing Arwen again? As the future king of Gondor, the peoples hope is founded by _you_. Are you choosing one being over the fate of Middle-Earth?"

"So you would have me leave this world without her?" Aragorn knew the words were unforgivably selfish as soon he said them.

"And you would have her parted from her kin forever? You both have your own paths to follow, and hers differs somewhat from yours." The elven-lords tone was clipped and sharp; he was clearly annoyed as well as saddened.

"What path is there for me to take, then, my Lord?"

"No formalities, Estel. I have been Elrond to you since you were a mere babe. And here is where the true purpose of my journey is revealed. You need more men, and you know it. You have already performed great deeds, and will perform many more in the upcoming war as the future king of Gondor. You have earned the peoples trust, hope and love; now you must earn your title."

And with that Elrond reached for a black leather scabbard, protecting the gift Aragorn had been waiting for all his life. He held it in his hands, as if offering it to Aragorn. The future king of men closed his eyes for a moment; when he opened them, there was a new light shining in them. He reached for the hilt, his outstretched fingers grasping it with determination. Drawing it swiftly from its scabbard, a smile of sorts played upon his lips.

"And_ú_ril, flame of the West, reforged from the shards of Narsil. Bear it well, Aragorn. For you will not win this war if no others come, you know this in your heart. Take the paths only the King of Gondor may tread, to hope and victory. Become who you were born to be." And with a sweep of black robe the Elf-Lord was gone, riding silently into the night.

**Oh well. Please R&R. Constructive criticism is absolutely fine – I think I need it right now. Something's gone wrong with my mind…**


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